“You just dropped the bombshell that your father was murdered.”
Elijah sags against the doorframe.
“How long?”
My voice is hoarse.
“What?” Elijah asks.
“How long have you known?”
I look up. My brother looks drained, as drained as he did the day Lottie went missing.
“Since Crawley died. He mentioned something about Dad. Pen confirmed it much later when I asked her.”
“But Pen has known all this time?”
Elijah straightens. “Don’t blame Pen, she was doing her job, she was protecting us.”
I push up off the floor and move to the sink, washing my face and brushing my teeth, before spinning on my brother.
“Who gave her the right to make that decision?”
Pen appears at Elijah’s shoulder, placing a hand on his arm.
“It’s okay,” she says to him, before turning to me.
“You’re right, Kat,” she says, her gaze never wavering from mine. “I could have gone against orders and told you all. Anddon’t think for one moment I wasn’t tempted.” She inclines her head. “You’re my family. Robert was the father I never had.” Her voice cracks, but she coughs, allowing herself to continue. “What would you have done? The agency I work for couldn’t pin it on them. They had covered their tracks, even set up a patsy to take the fall. All you would have done is spent the past seven years living half a life, knowing they were out there, but that there was nothing you could do to stop them.”
Her voice catches, and it hits me. That’s exactly what she’s gone through.
I step forward, pushing Elijah out of the way and pulling my best friend into my arms.
“I’m sorry, Pen. Oh God, I’m so sorry,” I whisper against her shoulder. “I’m sorry you had to carry that burden alone.”
Pen lets out a sob, and I tighten my arms around her, my floodgates opening.
How long we stand there rocking each other, sharing our grief, I don’t know. But we grieve together, for the man we both loved, and who was stolen from us.
It’s Elijah who finally breaks through.
“We need to call the files in, Kat,” he says. “The case is struggling. They’re missing pieces. These might be them.”
Pen steps back, her bloodshot eyes locking on mine. Questioning.
“Do what you have to do,” I say, my limbs suddenly incredibly heavy.
I leave them standing in my spare bedroom, making my way back into the main area, sinking down onto the sofa and picking up a now cold coffee.
Elijah follows me, dropping into the chair opposite, his large frame filling it.
“I wanted to tell you,” he says.
“I know.”
“But it wouldn’t have done any good.”
As I stare around me, a hollow feeling settling in my chest.
